less than the depth of grief
by Indigo-Night-Wisp
Summary: He squeezed hard at the juncture between neck and left shoulder. Gen yelled and reached automatically to stop the pain. The stump of his wrist brushed the minister's hand and everything stopped.


**Disclaimer: i don't own the book series**

 **A/N: originally posted on my tumblr: indigo- night- wisp . tumblr . com (take out spaces)**

* * *

 _less the depth of grief_

The minister of war grasped his son by the scruff of the neck and shook him hard. Eugenides snarled and the minister added a sharp smack to the back of his head. The court watched nervously.

Since returning –or being returned –from Attolia, minus one hand and much of his spirit, the Queen's Thief had walked an uncomfortable line between hopeless despondency and raging fury. One minute, he would be solemnly and silently lurking in the background, head hanging and sorrowful. The next, he would be on his feet, screaming curses and howling angry cries with hardly a discernible word among them.

It was terrible to see. Most were moved to pity, even those who normally could not stand the thief.

But he had gone too far today. Eddis had previously been off-limits in his bad attitude, but today Eugenides had crossed the line.

It was only some back talk, some irreverent, snide remarks during court. But he had hurt Eddis –no, he had hurt _Helen's_ feelings, and the minister of war knew that were Gen his usual self he would be appalled at his own behavior.

He shook Eugenides again. "Apologize," he said quietly. Eugenides hissed and spit like a cat.

A tighter grip. "Apologize."

"No," Eugenides refused.

The minister of war bowed to his niece. "By your leave?" He waited until she nodded, stone faced but eyes sad, before dragging his son from the throne room.

Eugenides fought but he was smaller and still weak from his captivity and –gods forgive him –only had one hand. The minister of war easily hauled him through the palace halls until they reached his own chamber, which he had shared with his wife until she had fallen.

Gen stopped moving and maybe breathing as they crossed the threshold, and the minister of war allowed his grip to ease ever so slightly. Gen was already going to bruise. Regrettable, but inevitable at this point.

"Your behavior is unacceptable," the minister of war announced as he pushed his son forward into the room. "It is unkind to speak so to your cousin. Unkind, and unlike you."

"Perhaps it is like me," Eugenides replied mockingly, "and you only see it now."

"No," his father said quietly. "It is not like you, and you will stop."

Eugenides' lip curled. "Really," he said, "and how shall you make me?"

The minister heard movement in the passage but still said, "With force if I must."

Eddies came in then. "Uncle," she started to say, and then stopped.

"Your temper is unbecoming," the minister of war continued as if she had not spoken. "You will control yourself or I shall do it for you."

Eugenides snarled. "And how?" he asked again. "Beat me? Gag me? Put me in chains and throw me in the d-dungeons?" His voice cracked on the last word and the minister sensed Eddis stepping back to wait. She would not interfere now. Gen needed this. He knew that his suffering was not an excuse for his behavior. Normally, he would never tolerate it from himself. But things were not normal and never would be again, and something had to be done. If he was not corrected, then he would assume –correctly –that it was because of his hand. And then he would be forced to take vengeance for the implication that his handicap made him pitiable and unable to withstand a rebuke.

To not chastise Eugenides for his actions today would be unacceptable. To punish him would be unbearable. Eddis left the matter in her uncle's hands.

He put those hands to use and grasped Gen firmly by the shoulder and elbow. "Dungeons?" he said mildly, though his stomach turned at the thought. "Very dramatic of you." He sat down on his bed and neatly kicked his son's feet from under him. Gen landed on his knees in front of the minister of war and yelped. The minister placed a hand on his son's head and said, "You owe your queen an apology. But first, I think you need to contemplate why you are so angry and taking it out on others. And I think you can do that right here, right now."

Eugenides froze, and then tried to leap to his feet. He obviously did not want to think about it, at all. The minister, having expected this, held him down easily. Eddis shifted anxiously.

"Let me go!" shouted Eugenides, fury clogging his voice. "You don't know anything, you don't –let me _go_!" He thrashed in place.

His heart twisted, but the minister of war held firm. "I will not," he said, "and I think I do know."

Eugenides struggled, clutching at the minister's arms and trying to wriggle out from under the hands on his neck and shoulder. He flailed his arms and the minister tensed. Here it came.

He squeezed hard at the juncture between neck and left shoulder. Gen yelled and reached automatically to stop the pain. The stump of his wrist brushed the minister's hand and everything stopped.

And then Eugenides burst into tears.

Eddies startled and was shocked when Eugenides flung himself away from his father, the minister letting him go now that his goal was accomplished. The thief curled up on the floor in the corner, knees pulled to his chest and left hand cradling his right arm. A soft keening was the only sound he made.

Helen covered her mouth with her hand and turned pleading eyes to her uncle. He looked back at her with confidence and an uncharacteristic gentleness. _Patience_ , his eyes said. _I have him_.

His son's breath hitched, sobs catching in his throat as he refused to release them.

"Eugenides," said the minister. No response.

"Eugenides," he repeated insistently.

His son lifted tear filled eyes, defiance sapped away by grief. The minister held out one hand.

"Come," he said simply.

Eugenides hesitated, perhaps uncertain of the intent or possibly of the welcome, but then crawled out of the corner, rolled to his feet, and stumbled into his father's waiting arms.

It took a long time for Gen's tears to stop. The minister of war held him carefully, cradled on his lap like a child. Gen rested his head on his father's shoulder and took deep shuddering breaths.

"Sorry," he said to Eddis when he was able. "I am sorry."

She stepped forward then and took his one hand in hers. "You are forgiven," she said, leaning forward to kiss his brow.

Eugenides twisted his neck to stare up at the minister of war, who looked back with a raised eyebrow and an impassive face.

"Sorry," Eugenides said, flushing. His eyes felt sticky. "I hate crying," he added grumpily.

The minister of war snorted. "But you needed to," he pointed out. "Here, where you are safe and have someone to comfort you, if you would just accept it." He brushed a hand through Gen's hair. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes," Eugenides muttered. The minister of war snorted again.

"Then I will see you in half an hour for drills," he said, standing and dropping his son to his feet.

"Drills?" Eugenides sounded worried. The minister smirked.

"Sword drills," he said. "You need some practice." He left his son sputtering outraged protests and went to clear the courtyard.

He had a feeling there might be some flying swords today.


End file.
